Famished
by wildegreenlight
Summary: Ron is healing, but still a little off in the weeks after the battle. Hermione proves that the way to a man's stomach is through his heart.


**A/N: This is a little something that I wrote for the** _ **Sinfully Romione**_ **fest on Tumblr (hosted by the AMAZING coyotelaughingsoftly). It won the Gluttony category. Special shoutout to callieskye for the beta and all my group chat lovelies for just being awesome!**

Leaving the knitted blanket on the sofa, Hermione Granger shivered not at the temperature of the house, but at its complete silence. Ever since her first visit to the Burrow, one of the things that she liked best about it was that it was never quiet. There was always some sort of racket: dishes magically scrubbing themselves, wizard photos arguing with one another, games of exploding snaps, Ron and Ginny teasing one another, the twins pulling some sort of prank.

The twins. Hermione, sighed as she thought about the core reason for the change in atmosphere. She knew that there were so many things about the last few weeks that she could never forget, one of those was coming into the Burrow the day after the final Battle. Ironically, the brief respite that she, Ron, and Harry had enjoyed in Gryffindor tower had evaporated like smoke when they returned to what should have been the happiest place any of them had ever known. She had thought that perhaps it was a fleeting thing _time heals all wounds, nothing lasts forever, the show must go on_ , but it had been weeks, and everything still felt a little disjointed. It reminded her of completing a jigsaw puzzle, but the last piece just didn't quite fit.

Not that everyone hadn't made an effort to return to normal, they most assuredly had. Arthur had returned to the ministry even if it was for only a few hours a day. Bill and Charlie had reluctantly returned to their own homes. Harry and Ginny were slowly mending their relationship. She and Ron were getting along rather nicely _rather nicely indeed._ They were even making plans to go to Australia with the help of Kingsberry and the ministry. Despite all of the progress, Ron too, was just a little _off_. She knew it was to be expected. So many traumatic events had been crammed into so small a span of time; he had every right to need time to heal. To most people, on the outside, he seemed like he had recovered in record time, but she knew better. He was doing too much, helping everyone else, not allowing himself to need or want anything.

She was smart enough to know that Ron was still struggling to make up for mistakes that had long ago been forgiven, to feel worthy of the life that fate had decided to allow him to keep when so many others had lost theirs. In a way, all of them battled that particular demon. Lost in this line of thought, Hermione ambled into the kitchen, deciding that a cup of tea might help dispel the sleeplessness she was feeling. Quietly assembling the makings of her nightly libation, she took a seat at the table. God, she loved this table! It always seemed strange to sit at it alone, the wood itself seemed to sigh in contentment when all the Weasley clan was gathered around it. Now it seemed so big, so empty, just her and, wait, what was in the center? A large platter full of...oh, my, were those Molly's scones? Indeed they were! _Well that's a good sign, Molly baking again! Maybe Ron will have a few in the morning._

Ron's eating habits had been very troubling to Hermione. Initially she had dismissed his lack of appetite. After all, months of very little food had affected all three of them; however, as the weeks stretched on, he did not eat more, if anything he ate less. She had asked him about it, everyone else was really too out of it to notice, but he had made light of the topic in a very Ron-like fashion, claiming that he was trying to be swimsuit ready when they went to Australia. She hated not having a plan of action for how to help him, but she also knew that some things were beyond her power to heal.

Ron Weasley was awake. He had gone to sleep rather early, but he had woken to find his bed disturbingly empty. Descending the last set of steps, he noticed a light coming from the kitchen. As he approached, wand in hand, he took pause at what sounded very much like Hermione, moaning softly. For a moment his heart thundered in his chest, it felt like the million nightmares he'd battled before finally destroying that bloody locket. Bracing himself for whatever he might find, Ron turned the corner and came face to face with the most alluring sight he had ever seen.

Hermione was sitting at the table eating what appeared to be a scone. Eating wasn't the right word, she was _devouring_ it. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her so utterly lost in something she was eating: a book? Yes. Pudding? Never. He was mesmerized by the sight, the way she slathered cream on top of the golden brown surface, the way she opened her perfect mouth to take a bite, the way she closed her eyes and sighed, _bloody hell!_ Knowing he couldn't take it anymore, he walked quietly into the room.

"Mind if I join you?" the sound of his voice almost as surprising to him as it was to her, husky with sleep and the stirrings of want.

"Oh! Uh...sure! I...didn't wake you...did I?" Her cheeks flushed as she motioned for him to take the seat next to her.

"No, not really, but I woke up and you weren't," he referenced her habit of coming to sleep with him. Both had found that they couldn't make it through the night otherwise. Some nights it was only a matter of minutes before she joined him, other times she would delay her arrival. Unbeknownst to him, she had an irrational fear that she was keeping him from his rest. "I was a little worried, so I came to check on you."

"I'm fine. Sorry I made you worry. I wasn't tired yet, so I decided to have a snack."

"I see that," he reached over, brushing an errant bit of cream from the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, Hermione brought the tip of her tongue to the same spot, catching the side of his thumb. He had intended to give her a smooth response, but suddenly all he could think of was replacing his hand with his own mouth.

"Want some?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, and he would have sworn that she was trembling slightly.

When he could not find his voice, he simply nodded at her, reluctantly removing his hand from her cheek. He imagined he must look like a total numpty, eyes wide, speechless as she reached for another scone from the platter.

"Cream?"

"Please."

"You know, for the better part of a year, I've had dreams about your mum's scones," she looked at him with that shy grin that always flipped his heart over like diving too fast to save a goal. "But some things are worth the wait."

"They sure are," Ron noticed her eyes widened slightly, comprehension sliding across her face.

"The waiting makes you appreciate them more."

She broke off a piece and covered it with cream. When she held it up for him to take, he opened his mouth instead, leaning forward and closing his eyes as she placed it slowly inside. Hermione made no attempt to move her fingers, so Ron grazed them with his lips as he accepted her offering. A tiny sigh of a whimper escaped her own lips, inspiring a moan from deep within his chest.

"Good?" Her gaze was intense, but he didn't flinch, returning it in kind.

"Bloody amazing!" The scones _were_ good, but honestly he'd eat hypogriff dung as long as she kept feeding him with her wicked little hands.

"More?"

"Please."

Hermione repeated the motions she had made earlier. However, in her distraction she must have unintentionally slathered on a bit too much cream because as the scone reached its intended destination, a dollop fell and landed on the side of Ron's chin. Without hesitation, she ran her finger along his ginger stubble. He watched her wide-eyed as she returned the digit to her own mouth, sucking it clean. He almost forgot to chew and swallow, but he eventually managed to dispatch the bite with an audible gulp.

He felt as if he had run up the steepest set of the Burrow's stairs: light-headed and panting, he watched her. It was almost like he was coming out of a fog. For the last few weeks he had worked so hard to keep going, to be there for her, for Harry, for his whole family, but honestly, it had made him feel like he was, well, just _off_. It reminded him of when he used to put his head under water in the bath as a kid. Like how everythings feels and sounds so unreal, but when you come up again, you realize everything is the same. As he sat there, with Hermione, all of a sudden everything seemed amazingly real and vibrant. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her look, that pastry tasted like every warm meal he had shared at this very table. Suddenly he was famished, and not just for scones.

Hermione was, as usual, one step ahead of him, assembling another bite, "There's marmalade if you'd like."

"Sounds perfect, here, let me," Ron spooned a generous portion onto the baked treat and offered her a bite. She took a dainty nip which upset the marmalade, causing a drop to fall into the opening of her robe, landing in a rather provocative location.

"Clumsy me! Let me get a napkin," she stood up to do just that, but Ron seized the opportunity: clasping her wrist and pulling her near. He turned slightly so that she was standing between his knees.

"I've got a better idea," the confidence in his voice was only slightly betrayed by the question in his eyes: _may I?_ In reply, she untied the dressing gown.

Ron slid forward, giving himself better access to her newly exposed skin. His hands found her hips, bringing her closer. The spot of marmalade was just to the left of her sternum, not quite touching the beginning of her scar. Ever so slowly he leaned forward, flattened his tongue and drug it gently across her chest. He grinned into her flesh as he felt her sway slightly in his grip, knowing one taste would definitely not be enough.

"As much as I like jam, I think I prefer cream," looking up at her he found the same mixture of mischief and desire that was currently sweeping through his veins.

"Is that so?" Hermione bit her lip and watched enthralled as he dipped two of his impossibly long fingers into the jar before tracing them from her jaw down into the valley between her breasts. Automatically, she lifted her chin to allow him unimpeded access.

Muttered curses slipped past his lips as he covered her neck in open mouthed kisses. The slightly sweet taste of the cream, mixed with the saltiness of her skin was intoxicating. How would he ever eat food off a boring plate ever again? As he followed the trail downward with his mouth, his hands began to travel up, under the fabric of her top. Hermione moaned softly at the combination of sensations he was creating.

When Ron splayed his hands over her back, pulling her closer to his kisses, he was delighted to find that she had forgone undergarments. This knowledge inspired him to gently lift her vest. He ran his tongue in the hollow of her throat as he gently cupped her breasts in his hands, brushing her tightening nipples with his thumbs.

"I think you missed a spot."

"Oh, really? I'd hate not be thorough."

He pulled back, leaving her top bunched up over her chest, to investigate. Before he had time to ponder, Hermione had dipped her own finger in the cream dish. She held her finger in the air for a moment as Ron said a silent prayer: _Merlin, please, if she puts that on her tits I will give up every bad habit I've ever had._ He held his breath as she gently rubbed the cream over her right nipple.

"Sweet merciful fuck!" He was shaking under the strain of denying the primal urge to strip her starkers and take her right on the table where his mum would place breakfast in a few short hours. As gently as he could manage, Ron ran his tongue in circles around Hermione's nipple. It pebbled in his mouth as he began to suck softly.

"Ron...oh, god!" The sound of her calling his name momentarily broke his control, and he sucked her more forcefully than he intended, than he ever had before. Instead of scolding him, she responded by threading her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer.

He wanted to devour her. Wanted to feast on her until he had his fill, but was that even possible? Could he ever get enough? He was willing to use the rest of his days to try and find the answer.

As he continued to worship her with his mouth, Ron reached blindly onto the table, finding the marmalade, pulling back just long enough to coat the left nipple before going back to work. When he felt Hermione's knees buckle, he pulled her to straddle his lap. He growled around her as she made contact with his erection, now straining against his thin pajama bottoms.

"Your turn," she gasped out in shallow breaths as her hands reached for the hem of his faded shirt, pulling it over his head in one determined movement. The cream was cold against his skin, but her mouth was maddeningly hot as she sucked it off his collarbone. The feeling of her nipples against his bare chest, nipples still wet from his mouth, while she nipped at his neck was almost enough to send him over the edge. It felt as if her appetite was as strong as his. The thought was overwhelming. All that wasted time, he would make it up to her.

As Hermione began to scatter open-mouthed kisses over his jaw, Ron turned and captured her mouth, kissing her passionately. Lost in sensation, both were surprised when his hands, which hand been rubbing her bare thighs, slipped through the leg of her sleep shorts. He paused slightly, making sure he hadn't gone too far, but he continued when she spread her legs wider in encouragement. She pulled back, panting, resting her forehead on his, as he moved aside her knickers, brushing his fingertips across the dampness of her curls.

"Ffffuck," Ron closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to steady himself. The proof of her desire made him thrust up involuntarily, desperately searching for friction. He moved his fingers slowly, relishing in the silky feel of her. _Like melting cream. Fuck, I bet she tastes even better._ In a moment of inspiration, he brought his other hand inside her knickers, and dipped his index finger inside.

Hermione was panting now, her hips making tiny circles over him. There were bright red spots high on her cheekbones; spots that Ron had learned recently meant she was especially turned on. When he brought that same finger up to his mouth, sucking it clean, she actually whimpered. _Cream and marmalade can sod off!_ They literally crashed into one another, a tangle of limbs, his hand still caught in her undergarment, their bare chests pressed together, his erection pressed between them as they ground into one another. His poor brain was so overloaded that it actually took him a minute to realize that Hermione had reached between them and was fumbling with the tie on his pajama bottoms. Her nimble fingers found their way inside and she gripped his aching cock. He thrust into her fingers as she rubbed herself over his hand, kissing desperately as they brought each other closer to bliss.

"Ron...I'm...oh...god," she whispered hotly into his mouth, trembling in his arms.

"Ermione!" Suddenly the tension snapped, and he came undone specaturally. He watched as she pulled her hand out of his pants, studying it for a moment before _BLOODY FUCKING HELL!_ Hermione gave him a wink, running her tongue across her palm to the tip of her fingers. The utter contentment he had felt just a moment before was replaced with a fresh wave of desire. However, before he could pull her in for another snog, they were interrupted by the rumbling of his stomach.

"Looks like someone really is hungry."

"Thought we'd already established that, but I could definitely go for seconds," the waggling of his eyebrows brought them both into a fit of laughter.

"Ok, but how about I feed you some _actual_ food before that...can't have you giving out of me, now can I?

"We can't let that happen, bloody travesty, that would be."

Molly Weasley, as usual, was the first one up, so she headed to the kitchen to start breakfast for the rest of her family. She was actually humming as she went in, hoping to have a quiet cup of tea and a scone or two before the rest of the house woke.

Her humming stopped as she surveyed the waste land that just last night had been her perfectly immaculate kitchen. There were empty bowls all over the table, someone had finished off the leftover roast, and the potatoes, and the gravy, and…

"Bloody Hell! Who ate all the scones?!"

She stalked past the pantry into the parlor, prepared for battle, but she stopped in her tracks when she encountered a sight that warmed her motherly heart. Ron and Hermione were sleeping soundly on the sofa, her head on his chest, soft snores coming from his slightly open mouth. Molly stepped closer, intending to give him a quick peck on the forehead, she had to bite her lip to stifle the laughter that bubbled up when she noticed the bit of gravy that was clinging to his chin. She was overjoyed to know that he was eating again. _A mother's food can heal all wounds._ As she stood there watching, he pulled Hermione closer in his sleep, _so can the love of a good woman._ Molly tiptoed out of the room knowing that her son indeed had both.


End file.
